


Pretender

by StarTravel



Series: Defiance Through Tenderness [12]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, But which man is the unreliable one?, Denial of Feelings, Identity Issues, Though Not Romantic Ones, Unreliable Narrator, harsh words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 11:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17042690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarTravel/pseuds/StarTravel
Summary: Garak and Julian both agree that Julian’s doing a poor job of pretending to be something he’s not. They just don’t agree on which is the not.





	Pretender

IJulian curls up against him, nuzzling his cheek against the scales along Garak’a clavicle. His eyes are still closed and his smile is soft and lazy, arms wrapping more tightly around his back. Garak just holds him flat for a moment, letting his weight press down on Julian. Julian leans up and presses a few more of those ‘butterflies’ as he calls them along Garak’s neck ridges, so chaste and gentle that Garak can’t quite stop himself from smiling softly and cradling Julian just a bit closer to his chest.

Then Julian stops, blinking his eyes far more rapidly as Garak shifts his arm enough to let the light hit Julian’s eyes through their thin silk curtains. Julian immediately frowns, expression tightening as he gives Garak a flat look. Still, he doesn’t try to push Garak off of him yet. ‘“Garak, what time is it? Why didn’t my alarm go off?”

 “I turned it off.” Garak murmurs into Julian’s hair with a shrug, shifting so he’s higher up on Julian’s body. He presses his face down against Julian’s jaw, moving his own eyelashes up and down rapidly. it’s not quite the same feeling Garak’s sure, his ridges rubbing up and down on the side of Julian’s jaw like sandpaper. But Julian seems to appreciate it, eyes briefly falling shut up again and a satisfied noise sliding from his lips. “You’re supposed to be resting, dear.”

 “I think I should get to choose what I’m doing on _my_ vacation.” Julian’s voice doesn’t come out with the acidic quality that it’s held for the past few weeks, lazy and sweet with just a hint of affront. That sounds like the man he has lunch with, kind and gentle in his own way, but with just enough of an edge to make him someone Garak can understand and appreciate.

 Garak rolls his and pushes down on Julian again, mentally calculating how much longer he can keep him in bed. He’d guess less than five minutes, given the heightened awareness in Julian’s gaze and the way his shoulders are starting to pull together. Five minutes of respite is something, he supposes. Garak grins, voice coming out with a hint of chiding. “If I let you decide what you were doing right now, it wouldn’t be a vacation at all.”

 “Considering that I never wanted to go on this vacation in the first place, that’s fine with me.” Julian elbows him lightly in the chest, sharp bones bumping against the scales on his stomach. Garak raises an eye ridge, smirking a little as he considers just collapsing on Julian until the other man falls back asleep. But Julian’s gaze is sharp and aware as he elbows Garak again lightly. Garak lets out a low sigh as he rolls off of him, spreading out against the rest of the gratuitously large bed. Julian rolls his eyes, sitting up and grabbing their bag with a tight frown. Julian starts digging through the suitcase, brow furrowing as his hands keep coming up empty. “Did you throw out all of my research?”

 Garak makes a tutting sound with the top of his tongue, shaking his head as he forced himself to sit up. Really, but Julian could almost be as paranoid as him sometimes. “Of course not. I simply didn’t think to bring any of those padds. You shouldn’t have left the packing up to someone else if you were going to be this upset if a few of your books didn’t make it.”

 “You knew full well that I planned to use this ridiculous farce to focus on work I can’t on the Defiant.” Julian answers with a shake of his head, tone a strange mix of indulgent fondness and what Garak suspects is forced irritation. Julian catches his eye and pouts, arms crossed against his chest as he inches toward the end of the bed. Garak can see a small smile tugging on the corner of his mouth though, the looseness of his frame.

 “Did you? Well, we’ll just have to find something else for you to do.” Garak answers as sunnily as possible, standing up from the bed without glancing back at Julian. He presses several buttons on their in room replicator, letting out an almost wary breath as the scent of pastries fills the air. Garak picks up the plate and takes a few steps back to the edge of their shared bed, setting the plate on Julian’s thighs carefully. “Here, I replicated you some jam and scones.”

 “Maybe I don’t want jam and scones.” Julian answers back petulantly, voice not quite reaching biting yet. Garak can’t help noticing that Julian picks up one of the scones anyway, carefully breaking it apart into several small pieces. Then Julian picks one up, gingerly dipping it into the edge of the jam.

 Garak watches him take a few bites, far too quickly to actually take in any of the flavors. Julian sets the plate down next to him, gaze slowly starting to take on the distance that has become commonplace in those eyes on the Defiant. Garak finds that he hates it, swallowing tightly as he stares over at Julian. “Then what do you want?”

 “The rest of my research since now I only have this one pathetic … you hid my padd.” Julian’s voice has a touch of hurt, eyes widening for a second in the kind of innocent offense that first caught Garak’s attention five years ago. Julian was - sometimes is - so shocked by the world around him, by even the smallest of cruelties. Garak used to think that was a weakness.

 Garak shakes his head as he slides to his feet, padding across the room leisurely. Julian crosses his arms more tightly against his chest, glowering over at Garak when he makes no move to return his padd. Garak grins, small and teasing as he comes to stand in front of Julian. “I simply picked up after you when you left your things scattered around the room. There’s no reason to be so unkempt just because you’re on vacation, my dear.”

 There was a time, not so long ago at all, really, when that smile combined with the lilting twists and turns of Garak’s word were enough to make Julian capitulate to almost anything, gaze filled with adoration Garak’s sure he never deserved. Now though, Julian simply gives him a flat look, gaze growing mpre annoyed by the second. Julian’s voice is clipped when he speaks, the way it always is these days. “Garak.”

 “Are you going to be in this mood the entire time we’re on vacation?” Garak can’t help the irritation that slides into his own voice, the way his hands start to shake a little as he digs his nails into his palms. Julian has saved himself from himself twice, protected him, provided him with the only friendship he’s had in a near decade. And Garak can do _nothing_ for him, his every attempt to care for his friend falling flat or being answered with empty eyes.

 “Would you prefer me to carry on like I don’t have any cares in the world? I seem to remember you being rather critical of that a month ago.” Julian doesn’t look at him, gaze careful as he scans the room, probably trying to guess where his Padd is. He presses his mouth into a thin line, pushing the barely touched scones aside as he shifts past Garak.

 Garak swallows, closing his eyes as takes a few measured breaths. He supposes he could try the truth this time, give Julian a little bit more of himself. This time in the form of failure, because maybe if he’d acted sooner, Julian wouldn’t be so far gone. “That was when I thought it was enough to just annoy you.”

 “Have you been doing anything else?” Julian’s voice is as flat as a Cardassian‘s finest poisons, gaze as frigid as dry ice. It’s not the harshest thing either of them have said to each other by any measure - Garak has told Julian he hated him before - but there’s something about the way Julian says it, the lack of emotion that makes Garak shudder.

  So Garak does the only thing he can think to do. He walks out of the room without another word, letting his feet carry him to a thankfully empty patch of sand.

 *****

 Julian spends another twenty minutes trying to bury himself in his work on curing Ketracel White addiction, picking at the scones every so often and reminding himself that he doesn’t feel guilty. He doesn’t. Garak’s the one who forced him on a leave of absence against his will, dying soldiers be damned. If he can’t save them, he can at least find a way to stop this war sooner, to free the Jem H’adar from their genetic cages and him from having to shoot a phaser at another life he and maybe he alone believes has any potential -

 And he’s been writing the same notation over and over again for several lines. Julian swallows down a dry laugh and closes his eyes, shaking his head ruefully. It’s been years since he’s had that particular stress reaction, and maybe it means Garak (and Sisko) have a bit of a point.

 Julian has been letting his emotions get the better of him lately, his acerbic wit becoming more and more harsh the more he becomes bitter and pragmatic. They’re right. It isn’t fair to them. All Garak is doing is trying to help him, as short-sided and wrong as his help might be. Garak doesn’t deserve to bear the brunt of Julian’s disillusion and growing indifference to the world.

 Garak has spent decades lying for other people’s benefit. Julian can manage to do it for him for the rest of this shore leave.

 And with that goal in mind, Julian sets his research padd aside and forces a smile he doesn’t feel onto his face, heading out the door and to a bar close to their quarters. It takes several minutes of finagling and a promise to come back and look at the bartender’s sore that night, but Julian’s able to get a bottle of kanar and two glasses. He hopes his willingness to drink it is the clear olive branch he intends it to be.

 Then Julian heads towards the rockier end of the beach, not taking long to find Garak spread out alone on a flat surface with room enough for just one more person. Julian takes a deep breath and perches on the edge of the rock, grinning brightly and trying to ignore how foreign it feels on his face.

 “Here, I brought you some kanaar. I was surprised the bar had any, given the war, but I suppose Risa has always been somewhat of a neutral zone.” Julian tries to keep his voice chipper. It’s difficult in face of the Garak’s blank stare which manages to hold more judgment than any scales. Julian swallows down his nerves as much as he can and gingerly sets one glass of kanar down next to Garak’s hand. Garak keeps watching him, a slight shifting of his ridge enough to make Julian want to curl in on himself. “Look, I know you’re angry at me and rightfully so, but-”

 “Trust me, my dear, I _wish_ I were angry with you. I’m frustrated and worried.” Garak corrects him and his voice manages to be frustrated and concerned all at once, brow furrowing as he runs his fingers down the side of the kanar bottle. Julian thinks he used to have that voice quite a bit, for Garak and Miles and patients who didn’t want to be helped. He’s not even sure he could force it out of himself anymore.

 Julian gives him another tight smile, inching in on the rock so his ankle brushes against Garak's thigh. Garak gives him a truly unimpressed look as he sits up more fully, ridges pressing together. Right, he can’t flirt his way out of this. After all, his smile _is_ no longer boyish. Julian takes a deep breath and tries to keep his voice level and calm and tries to remember the patience that let him befriend Garak in the first place. “You don’t need to be -”

 “Julian, it’s one thing to lie to yourself, but it’s an entirely other thing to lie to _me_.” Garak cuts him off with more harshness than Julian expects or has gotten from Garak since the withdrawals from the wire. He can’t help the flinch that runs through him or the way his eyes widen at that, even as he curses himself for it. It’s certainly not helping his argument.

 “I’m not lying. I’m _fine_ now.” Julian tries to keep his voice even as he shifts closer to Garak on the rock, keeping his face as still as possible. If he can just bury all the emotions trying to push through, at least around everyone else, things will be better. Julian can make things better.

 Garak actually rolls his eyes this time, grabbing Julian’s arm with one hand. His voice stays as harsh as before, but Julian can’t help noticing his touch is gentle as he pulls him closer to the side on the rock. “Yes, that explains the distance you’ve been keeping with nearly everyone and the cynical for you attitude and pessimism and the way nearly everything you say these days sounds like an insult.”

 “I thought you wanted me to change.” Julian tries to keep his voice light, but not too light. Even and Vulcan like, hands folded on top of each other instead of moving wildly through the air like they used to. Garak looks down at them as though they’re offending him with their stillness.

 “That’s the problem, Julian. You haven’t changed, you’re just doing a very poor job pretending you have.” Garak tells him in a stern voice, resting one broad hand over Julian’s on the rock. There’s a catch in his gaze though, and Julian wonders if Garak’s trying to reassure him or _himself_. “I’ve been there the nights you’ve come from the bridge looking like the dead and I was certainly there the night you tried to kiss me and then broke down sobbing in my arms. Those aren’t the actions of a man who’s learned the lessons I tried to teach you.”

 “Well, I was never supposed to be a fast learner.” Julian answers in a clipped voice, not quite able to keep a hint of a smile from sliding across his face for a moment. Julian thinks it might almost be genuine, and maybe that will be enough to ease Garak’s fears. “Maybe you should try new teaching methods.”

 “No, I was wrong.” Garak admits in a low voice, the hand lying on top of Julian’s own suddenly squeezing both. His voice sounds almost pained to admit it, and that’s familiar enough to pull a sharp laugh from Julian’s throat. It stops when he sees the look in Garak’s eyes. “There are ways in which we’re alike, but there are also ways in which we are different and those parts of you are just as _necessary_.”

 Julian recoils a bit at that, shoulders hunching in on themselves despite himself. Necessary. His naivety and arrogance and childish enthusiasm and optimism, all the things everyone on the ship - Garak included - wanted to change about him are suddenly necessary now that they’re gone. Julian doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or to cry.  “For me or for you?”

 “Both of us.” Garak whispers as he moves closer to him, something pained coming into his gaze as gives Julian an appraising look. Julian swallows and lets his body go as limp as a rag doll when Garak wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls him to his chest. “You took care of me, with the wire and then with Tain and everything that happened afterwards. Let me do this for you.”

 “That was my duty as a doctor.” Julian reminds him tightly as he gives him a flat stare, hoping that maybe his words will be enough to snap Garak out of this bizarre savior complex he’s inconveniently developed ever since Julian lost his own.  

 Garak only pulls him closer through, leaning down to press a light kiss to Julian’s forehead. Julian lets his body go even limper, collapsing against Garak’s chest and closing his eyes as the gentle sound of the waves crashing against the ocean hits him. Garak’s voice suddenly grows almost painfully tender. “And this is mine as yours.”

 “As my what?” Julian murmurs with affection and as much warmth as he can muster, and he almost wants to praise himself for being such a skilled actor for the latter. There is no warmth left in him, but he can be the moon reflecting others’ sunlight if that is what makes Garak happy. He can’t be what he was, the Julian Garak cared for lost somewhere on the Defiant or maybe even back on Ajion Prime. But Julian can pretend to be that man for as long as Garak needs him to.

If Garak reads anything false in his movement or the strange, hiccuping sound that escapes Julian’s lips, he gives no indication. Instead he wraps an arm around his waist, scales brushing against Julian’s cheek as he can’t quite stop himself from nuzzling into one of them. “Just yours. Plain, simple yours.”

 Julian wonders which of them is the better liar in this moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments? Questions? Think it needs to be tagged with anything else? Let me know :).


End file.
